Grimes: 'In my life, I'm a lot more weird than this'

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Electronic pop went through a growth spurt around 2012. Once the sound of lightweight 1980s hits, through artists such as Julia Holter, Active Child and Grimes, it kept its melodies but took on a David Lynchian atmosphere, ultimately becoming a kind of suburban psychedelia. Claire Boucher, the Canadian artist who records as Grimes, embraced the possibilities of the genre completely, but has recently ditched the vaporous synths and wafting vocals. Her latest album, Art Angels, is a more explicitly commercial proposition: still frosty and interesting, but a very much in-your-face style of pop. John Robinson

Rob Delaney used to sell out gigs in Britain purely on the basis of his enormously popular Twitter account. Loads of comics use Twitter, but Delaney was arguably the first to fully realise its potential as a medium for broadcasting 140-character bursts of gloriously funny profanity. These days, he’s even better known for his role alongside Sharon Horgan in their acclaimed Channel 4 sitcom Catastrophe. Expectations may therefore be higher for this latest stand-up outing, but Delaney is unlikely to disappoint anyone who enjoys their comedy garnished with a fair amount of filth. He’s one of those comedians who regards no subject matter as off limits, and is happy to lay bare the most intimate details of his private life if it’s going to get him a laugh. James KettleAll this week’s best comedy

A lavish, literate tribute to 1950s Hollywood, with a host of star names, some virtuoso set pieces and a showcase of endangered showbiz skills such as lassoing, tap-dancing and analogue editing: what’s not to like? If anything, there’s too much to like here. Josh Brolin’s studio fixer has so many fires to put out – starting with the kidnapping of George Clooney’s matinee idol – and so many ideological circles to square, the story seems to run off in all directions, only intermittently hitting its comedy marks. Not all roads lead to Rome, alas. Steve Rose

Caitlin Moran’s most recent novel, How To Build A Girl, saw the first tentative stirrings of a critical backlash. But the thing about Moran is that she’s versatile, prolific and relentless. Not feeling the novel? Try the sitcom. But particularly, try the columns, where she’s probably at her best as a writer: sharp, playful, perceptive and sometimes deceptively angry. Her latest book, the grandly titled Moranifesto, sees her drag the pick of her recent columns out from behind the Times’ paywall and blinking into the light. They’re interspersed with some new writing and presented as a sort of state-of-the-nation address. In London, she’ll be reading choice extracts as well as taking part in a Q&A with the Southbank Centre’s Jude Kelly, before discussing the book in Birmingham and Bath later in the week. Phil Harrison

A quality cast – led by Michael Socha of This Is England fame and Chewing Gum’s Michaela Coel – bring this hyperactive fantasy drama to life. Forty years after crash-landing on Earth, aliens are living in quarantine. However, not only have they managed to invade the gene pool but human hair is sought after for its hallucinogenic properties. Inconvenient. PH

Sheffield’s Crucible is almost as famous for snooker as it is for theatre, and writer Richard Bean cheekily combines the two in this world premiere of a comedy thriller, directed by Richard Wilson. The cast will be joined by professional snooker player John Astley to tell the story of local Sheffield lad Dylan Spokes (played by Jack O’Connell), who finds that his dreams are coming true when he defies the odds and makes it into the second round of the competition at the venue. But, in what should be the biggest week of his life, Spokes is finding that things are getting infinitely more complicated; and with his dad and local gangster, Waxy Chuff, on his case it looks as if he’s going to find it hard to avoid being snookered both on and off the green baize. Lyn Gardner

Self-help gurus in California somehow seems like a textbook subject for a Netflix comedy starring Will Arnett. In Flaked, Arnett is Chip, a congenital liar with a history, and therefore a man ideally placed to rebrand himself as some sort of nebulously self-defining guru of personal development. The early stages are not without snarky promise, although whether Chip will establish himself as a lovable enough figure to root for remains to be seen. PH

CLUBS

Bloc

(Butlins Minehead, Friday to 13 March)

The final weekender at Butlins holiday camp before Bloc’s organisers create their new London “superclub”. As always, the list of visiting artists is ice-cold awesome, leaving serious electronic music heads gasping for air. Techno is abundant, but expansive in range: Detroit and Berlin powerhouses from Jeff Mills to Ben Klock, mass-destructive UK technician Powell, and outliers such as Ukraine’s Stanislav Tolkachev and Rome’s Lory D. There’s proper electro in spades, a respectable house offering, ghetto-tech, classic jungle and drum’n’bass and a gathering of the key players in new-wave grime. Fey, wider-appeal acts such as Thom Yorke and Four Tet almost seem out of place against this gaping chasm of underground music. Gwyn Thomas de Chroustchoff

The art of Hilma af Klint – psychedelic before psychedelia was conceived; surrealist before surrealism was invented; abstract at the very dawn of abstraction – are matched only in their seductive strangeness by the artist’s own biography. While she studied at the Royal Academy of Fine Arts in Stockholm, her graduation in 1887 marked the last time Af Klint involved herself the mainstream art world. Instead, the artist – who kept her work secret – formed “The Five” with four other female artists, engaging in séances aiming to summon spirits whom they believed wished to communicate through their art. The 193 works that form Af Klint’s The Paintings For The Temple, which typically include beams of ascending colour and fiery orbs, were an apparent “commission” from one such phantasm. Oliver Basciano

Luca Silvestrini’s latest work explores the first world’s obsession with food and, in the process, takes the concept of immersive dance-theatre to promising extremes. May Contain Food is set in a dining environment where the audience are invited to sit at a table and enjoy a tasting menu specially created for the show. Meanwhile, eight singers and dancers combine to perform Silvestrini’s choreography and Orlando Gough’s a cappella score, both of which are likely to embrace fad diets, eating disorders and gourmandising greed. Judith Mackrell